I flush at the realization that I almost didn’t even hear the question and say it clearly for the cab driver to hear, before settling back into my seat. This is it, now – only the last few moments before I have to leave Marco and go inside on my own. I feel a peculiar kind of ache at the thought. I don’t want him to leave. It seems almost childish to ask him to stay longer, so I fight down the urge, keeping my eyes on the streets flashing by, now lit with glowing orange lights against the darkness.
All too soon, my hotel approaches in the view through the windshield. “This is it,” I say, my stomach falling.
“Well, I hope you had a good night,” Marco says, fixing me with a smile that brings his dancing green eyes to life.
“I did,” I say, hoping that it sounds cool and polite, not as dreamy and fervent as it sounds in my own head. “Thank you, again.”
As the taxi comes to a stop, I expect to say my goodbyes, but Marco leans forward to the driver. “Wait for me here,” he says. “I’m coming back after walking the lady to her room.”
The driver grunts and nods in response, leaving me to blink in surprise. So, it’s not yet farewell after all. Marco’s manners are so gentlemanly, like nothing I’ve ever encountered before. It’s hard to believe that he’s real.
Like before, Marco takes my arm to lead me to the elevator and stands calmly by my side as we ride up to the correct floor. I can barely think of a single word to say, and my heart is racing fast in my chest. I want him to stay. I want him to come into my room with me. I want that strong-arm not to simply guide me, but to throw me on the bed, rip off my clothes…
I stare at my own reflection in the shimmering surface of the metal opposite, hard to make out and indistinct. I can’t do it. I can’t say it. It’s far too forward, and I don’t have any experience in this kind of thing. And Marco – I’m sure he’ll be appalled. He still sees me as a kid. I can’t tell him what I want.
The elevator door opens onto my floor, and I walk out, leading Marco down the corridor until I reach my door. I busy myself with inserting the keycard and unlocking it as if it’s a very difficult task that requires all of my concentration, and then I hesitate.
“So, this is my room,” I say, which is completely unnecessary given the fact that I’ve just demonstrated that truth by unlocking it.
“Have a good night, bella,” Marco tells me. “Remember, bright and early in the morning. I’ll ask them to call your room when I arrive.”
I smile. “I’ll try to be ready. Maybe I’ll even be down in the lobby before you get here.”
“I don’t mind waiting for you,” Marco says. “Tomorrow will be a good day. Until then.”
“Until then,” I breathe, unsure of what to do or say. Stay, some voice inside my head whispers, half-hoping he will magically hear it.
“Ciao, bella,” Marco murmurs and gives me a lingering look before walking back down the corridor in the direction that we came from.
I close the door and sigh against it, wondering why I couldn’t just find the courage to at least hint something. But it was probably for the best.
It’s late already, so I get undressed and ready for bed, climbing into the sheets and picking up the paperback I brought with me to read. But I can’t focus on the words on the page. Instead, all I can think about is Marco – about the touch of his hand, and how his attention seems to focus all on me sometimes, making me feel like the only person in the world.
My mind carries me down a path, thinking about what might have happened if I’d had the courage to invite him in. I picture him leaning down from his tall height to kiss me, claiming my lips with that famous Italian passion, throwing me against the wall, and tearing my clothes away before the door barely has time to close. He would run his hands all over me, I think, trailing kisses, and then carry me over to the bed to loom over me.
My eyes are closed as I picture him tearing away my panties, ripping the delicate lace, which does not at all resemble the sensible granny panties I’m actually wearing, and tossing them aside, lowering himself over me, and then…
Just as the excitement builds inside me, I have to stop with a groan. I have no idea what comes next. I’ve never been in a position to know. I managed to make it to eighteen as a virgin, and I can’t even put together a fantasy in my head all the way to the finish.
I try to get comfortable in the unfamiliar sheets, shutting my eyes and hoping that sleep will come. There’s one thing I hold onto as I drift away, the thought that, if I were going to have any teacher in the world to show me what I don’t know, I would choose Marco in a heartbeat.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Marco
I shade my eyes against the sun as I take off my sunglasses, looking up at the hotel where I dropped Hannah off only last night. I’m early as I promised her I would be – largely because there was no point in delaying when I woke so early, tense and hard for her, thinking of all the things I could do to make her mine.
Because she will be mine. One way or another, I’m going to make sure of it.
I walk inside, intending to head for the reception desk and follow my earlier plan, but I soon stop in surprise. Sitting on one of the comfortable
